AN: M chapter

PJ

An awkward silence fell between them and Cal was aware of the pain in his heart again. As soon as it got quiet he could feel it there. As long as he kept moving he could ignore it, disguise it, cover over it. The agony rippled out from his chest making him shudder. He got up from the couch. He could feel Gillian watching him. She had somehow migrated to the middle cushion, closer to him. Not touching, but certainly closer. That was too close. Cal reached for the dinner plates and took them to the kitchen wordlessly. He just needed a minute. Then he'd be ok. He'd probably have to start hinting that she should leave soon. He didn't want her to. He wanted her to stay forever. But that wasn't meant to be. They obviously weren't meant to be. They were going their separate ways. She wanted children; he didn't want anymore. Right? That's what he wanted right?

God it hurt.

At the sink Cal rinsed the plates and then left them in the bottom of the sink. He felt warm inside and like he couldn't catch his breath and it was all ridiculous; him feeling this way. He had made his choice and so had Gillian and it wasn't like either of them had tried to manipulate the other, nor were they demanding more than the other wanted to give, nor had they fallen out of love. But that was the problem though wasn't it? They hadn't fallen out of love. Cal felt his stomach clench and he gripped the edge of the bench, suddenly losing his breath, and then he felt small hands sliding over his body to wrap arms around his torso and then the comforting weight of Gillian's head resting on the back of his neck.

'Oh god.'
Cal turned, dislodging her warmth, and wrapped his arm around her tightly, squeezing her in as if he could absorb her by sheer force. 'Don't leave me.' He felt Gillian practically sigh in to him; if it was possible, she got closer. Cal felt a new heat spread through him, radiating from her body to absorb through his skin. She smelt sweet and familiar and his stomach somersaulted with the scent. Cal lowered his head and pressed a kiss against the curve of her neck and shoulder. He rested there for a moment, holding her tightly, his lips against her warm skin.

Gillian's hand shifted down his back, smoothing over his flesh before her fingers hooked into the back of his belt loop, cementing their embrace. This was a better goodbye than that stupid kiss on the doorstep. What was he thinking? That he could simply walk away? Just like that. Walk away from her. Stupid. Of course it wouldn't be so simple. Of course he couldn't just walk away. Of course he couldn't say goodbye.

Gillian shifted her hand under the back of his shirt, stroking his skin. She pulled back a little, caught his eye and held it. Cal's breath stuttered in his chest. So. Beau. Ti. Ful, his heart beat out. He lowered his head towards her, heart thundering out its message. But then he hesitated. Seriously, what was he doing? Was this a better way to say goodbye to her? Was there ever a good way to say bye? Gillian closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his. It was a soft brushing of skin against skin but it was enough. Cal pressed harder and was delighted to feel Gillian respond. He parted her lips, or maybe she did it without prompting, and delved his tongue into the hot, wet, warmth of her mouth. He felt her fingers gripping his sides tightly, pushing and bunching his shirt more. Then she was shoving it up and pushing him back so she could pull it over his head.

Cal bumped back against the bench. As Gillian's fingers raked down his chest he grabbed for her, pulling her in tightly again. He smothered his mouth over hers, gulping the taste of her in. Gillian gave a throaty moan and started undoing his pants. Cal squeezed her ass, causing her to thrust in to him and she gave a surprised yelp, breaking away from his mouth. Cal pushed her roughly into the bench opposite, gripping the edge of her shirt and practically ripping it off her, tugging it up over her head. Gillian's hands pulled his hips in to her and Cal was aware of her pronounced breath. He kissed her again, roughly and desperately and he didn't care if she knew how he felt. He wasn't trying to convince her, but he wanted her to know, he loved her. He still loved her.

Cal traced his hand over the bare skin of her torso, over her breasts and down her spine. She shivered, her fingers working to undo his jeans. Cal unclasped her bra, trailing it over her arms and forcing her to stop to let it drop to the floor. She looked up at him and hooked her arms around his neck, so her chest was pressed tightly against his, skin to skin. She kissed him thoroughly again as his arms wrapped around her back and let her knees collapse to tug him to the floor. Cal lowered them in a controlled way. He let her out of his arms and she arched off the cold linoleum, grabbing him desperately.

Cal shifted more on to his side, holding her against him and undoing her dark trousers with his left hand. Gillian's fingers ran through the hair at the base of his neck, then tugged him down to kiss again; hot, slow, wet, thorough exploration of his mouth that made him painfully aware of himself. After her trousers, he undid his own. Gillian shifted her hands to push the material out of the way, to get at his skin. Cal went back to shoving at her clothes, his tongue dancing a duet with hers.

And finally it seemed there was no space between them. Gillian pulled him towards her and Cal shifted to meet her and it was bliss. He turned his weight so he was over her, resting on his hands, looking down. Gillian lay back, her arms still around his shoulders, fingers caressing his neck, smoothing, comforting. She pulled him in for another kiss, warm and sweet this time, delicate and forgiving. Cal made love to her, on his kitchen floor; worshipping, weaving a farewell.

Sweat slickened her skin beneath his touch and the heat of their entanglement warmed the floor around them. Gillian gave little breathy moans that echoed in the empty kitchen; the only sound was them saying goodbye, imprinting each other on their skin one more time. Cal kissed her and kissed her, as if he were trying to drown himself, as if he were slightly afraid of looking her in the eye. He didn't want her to see how much he hurt, how much he was going to miss her; he was too scared to look and see if she was going to miss him at all. So he worshipped her instead. He tattooed this final moment on to his skin and all over his heart and tonight when he had to go to bed alone he might pretend she was there next to him, that he could still feel her there with him. Gillian didn't cry out his name. She didn't beg him or tell him she loved him. But she clung on tightly. She kissed him back with fervour. She quivered with every stroke of their bodies. She whispered memories against the skin of his neck, branding her lips over his flesh. They both knew what this was.

Cal felt the most incredible sorrow in his chest as he held her afterward. She clung tightly and when he finally started to pull away he pretended he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. He sat back on his haunches, pulling his underwear into place so he could sit on the cold floor without being completely uncomfortable. Of course, the temperature of the floor on his bare arse was really the last of his immediate problems. Gillian wouldn't look at him and what had been beautiful now felt a little sordid.

Cal reached for his shirt and found her bra amongst the material. He handed it over wordlessly and she took it without meeting his eye. They dressed slowly; not to make the moment last longer, they were just tired. Cal was thankful she didn't just get up and run; he thought he needed this slower, gentler journey down the tunnel to the end he knew was inevitable. She was going to go home alone in a minute. She was going to leave and then that really would be it. He couldn't follow. He couldn't knock on her door. They were going their separate ways.

God it hurt.

She wasn't even rejecting him. That might have been easier. If she had just told him that she didn't love him, that he hadn't changed and she could no longer put herself through this. But as it was, even though he understood the why, it seemed like a bigger slap in the face. It wasn't him and yet it was. He hadn't changed. If he had, he would be having a baby with her, instead of jamming a thousand tiny pins into his own chest. He was selfish and he didn't know how to be otherwise. He just didn't know.

Cal realised they were simply sitting there now, on his kitchen floor. He didn't want to kick her out but he certainly didn't know what to do next. Gillian always seemed to know. She always knew what was best. So maybe them breaking up was for the best too. Maybe somewhere down the line he was simply going to break her heart and she had found a way out. Maybe he was over thinking this.

Gillian got to her feet and did up the fly of her trousers. Cal got to his feet and did the same. Gillian combed her fingers through her hair and Cal wanted to do the same, to feel the soft smoothness one more time. Gillian pushed her feet into her shoes and seemed to look around for something... Cal stuffed his fingers in to the top of his jeans, hovered, wishing he was invisible and resisting the urge to scuff his toe like a school boy. Gillian started walking then, heading back for the living room, with the boxes stacked up against the sides, the TV in pieces on the floor, still waiting to be connected.

Gillian grabbed her keys and phone and jacket and turned to face Cal, who had followed her. She glanced at his face then stuffed her phone into her pocket and slid her arms through the jacket sleeves. "Thank you for dinner," she started, which sounded a lot like 'thanks for the sex.'

"Well," Cal gestured with an elbow. "I should thank you." Which sounded a lot like 'thanks for the shag.'

Silence followed.

Gillian flicked her hair out from beneath the collar of brown leather and switched her keys to her other hand. Cal almost offered a spare to this place and quickly bit it down. Nope, those weren't the rules by which they played anymore. It was over.

Over.

Gillian seemed to work up the courage to head for the door and Cal followed along like the love sick puppy he was. He wondered if he said anything she would call it off. If he just dared to open his mouth... Now though. It wasn't too late if he did it now.

Yes it was.

Gillian pulled open the door and stepped through. Cal caught the edge of it and used it to prop himself up. This was getting more and more difficult, watching her leave. But then she hesitated just outside on the stoop and turned towards him slightly, so her body was angled facing the driveway; not completely away, but not completely there. "So, uh," she hesitated, frowned, looked down at the concrete. "I'll see you at work?" She straightened up again and looked over at him. He gave a nod and she bobbed her head in agreement and Cal could see the spot under her jaw where he had been a little too enthusiastic with his teeth. If that bruised she would kill him. And then she stepped down onto the path and headed for her car, which was parked on the street. Not in the drive, but on the street.

Cal watched her get in and then stepped back slightly and slowly pushed the door closed with a gentle click. He could hear her car engine start, hear it reverse, hear it fade away down the street. He turned to face the devoid hallway and fought back the urge to bawl his eyes out. He thought he understood now what it meant to have his heart broken.

God it hurt.